


Not A Damn Thing

by someonestolemyshoes



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Gen, High School AU, levihan - Freeform, levihan AU, levihan high school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-28
Updated: 2015-04-28
Packaged: 2018-03-26 03:13:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3834868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/someonestolemyshoes/pseuds/someonestolemyshoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It’s September 23rd, I’m sweating my fucking ass off, and she’s Hange Zoe. </p>
<p>And not much else really matters."</p>
<p>In which high school is high school, Levi is Levi, and Hange is mad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not A Damn Thing

**Author's Note:**

> An old tumblr prompt I filled a little while ago - something a little lighter and more fun than I usually do.

It’s September 23rd, I’m sweating my fucking ass off, and she’s Hange Zoe. 

And not much else really matters. 

“Oi, Hange,” I hiss, and when she ignores me -  _ignores me -_ for the fourth time already, I throw a bundled up scrap of paper in her very general direction. 

“ _What.”_

_“_ Lunch. Next period. We’ll go to that shitty diner you like so much.” 

She’s quiet, for a minute, and I think she might actually have the audacity to ignore me  _again_ , when she pipes up with, 

“No. I’m busy, Levi. I promised Mike I’d go over the chemistry homework with him.” 

“ _Hange.”_ Ninety-nine per cent of the time, I’m way above whining, but she’s being difficult and I’m damn tired of being blanked. “I’ll buy you waffles.” 

She stiffens in her chair. 

“With syrup,” I add, “and ice cream. And whatever other gross shit you wanna shove down your gullet.” 

“…fine.” 

Jackpot. 

As a rule, Hange has always been pretty easy-going. But evidently, in the last week or so, I’ve done something to royally fuck her off. 

Biology passes painfully slowly, with Hange scribbling away beside me and pointedly neglecting to acknowledge my presence, and the clock ticking away mercilessly on the front wall. I fold my arms, glance out the window, make a point of ignoring Hange’s lack of attention like it doesn’t bother me at all. 

This time last week, she’d have been riding my ass about not making notes -  _you’ll never pass if you don’t at least try, shorty_ \- but today it’s like I’m not even here. Except, Hange’s never been all that great at subtle gestures, and she’s turning her head so far in the opposite direction that I worry she might snap her own neck. 

“You’re gonna hurt yourself, four-eyes.” I clamp a hand into the bundle of hair strapped up against the back of her head and twist her straight. She scowls, slaps my arm away, and shuffles her stool a little further from mine. She doesn’t utter a word. 

**

Outside the sun is _blazing_ , and though Hange is strolling along like it’s the first damn day of Spring and the sun _isn’t_  scorching it’s way into the depths of my soul, I’m sweating like you wouldn’t believe. Fucking disgusting. She walks a couple paces ahead of me, head held high, long legs outstripping me until I have to jog to catch up.  _Jog_. In this godforsaken heat. 

I’m too proud to tell her to slow down and she knows it, so we continue on, my two steps for every one of hers - she’s only a couple inches taller than me but she’s  _all legs_  - until we reach the diner. 

I fucking hatethis place. 

It’s always, always full of other kids from school (mostly the noisy, boisterous kind that I can’t fucking stand. Unless it’s Hange), and nobody can convince me this hell-hole passed it’s health and safety inspection. But Hange likes it, so I go. 

“Waffles, right?” I ask. Hange bites a nail and nods. She doesn’t meet my eyes. “What crap do you want on them?” 

She folds her arms - fucking  _child_  - and mumbles, “Ice cream.” 

“Just ice cream?” I press, even though I know exactly what she’s going to order. 

“Maple syrup.” 

“Chocolate sauce, too?” 

She nods. Predictable as fuck. 

I place the order - along with a diabetes-inducing milk concoction for her and a black tea for myself - and fold my arms to look at her. She’s gazing out the window, resolutely keeping her eyes off of me. 

“What the hell is wrong with you,” I snap, and her face shoots around. 

“I cancelled on Mike for this, don’t make me regret it.” 

_Screw Mike,_ I think,  _why the fuck are you pissed at me._

_“_ What’d I do?” 

Hange swallows and hides her face behind loose curtains of hair. 

_“_ Answer me, for fucks sake. Pull up your big girl pants and stop being such a baby.” 

She flares, and points an accusing finger at me.

“ _Right_  there, that’s why I’m pissed.” 

I open my mouth to reply when a waitress bustles over, setting down the milkshake and the waffles and my blessed tea. I thank her, and Hange shoves a forkful of syrup-y, chocolate-y, waffle-y mess into her mouth, glaring at me. 

“You treat me like a  _child_ , Levi. I’m eighteen! I’m older than you!” She swallows her food and takes an angry mouthful of chocolate milk. “You coddle me, all the time. You never let me do anything fun, you-.” 

“Hold on.” She’s got to be kidding me. She has  _got_ to be  _kidding me_. “Is this about that shitty experiment I told you not to do last weekend?” 

She fumes, silently, over her waffles. Un-fucking-believable. 

“Please  _God_  tell me you haven’t been giving me the silent treatment because I wouldn’t let you pocket dog shit.” 

“I had  _bags_ , Levi. I wasn’t just gonna stick it in my jeans. I’m not an animal.” 

“You’re a fucking idiot.” 

Shaking my head, I take a much-needed mouthful of tea. She’s had me stressed  _all fucking week_  because I stopped her from collecting shit from the pavement. Her toes collide hard with my shin and I choke. 

“What the fuck!” 

“I had a really cool idea and you  _ruined_  it. It’s science, clean-freak, I wasn’t gonna eat it or anything.” 

I raise a brow. She leans over the table and jabs her fork at me. 

“That was one time, and I was seven, and  _you_  dared me to do it.” 

“Filthy. I’m leaving now.” 

“What! Why? I’m not done.” 

I glare at her.

“I thought I’d done something serious. We’ve never fallen out before, dumbass, I thought you were never gonna talk to me again and it’s all because you wanted to take a doggy back of literal  _shit_  home with you, and I drew the line.” 

I expected a more violent retort, because when Hange gets fired up she gets  _fired up_  and you had better duck for cover or risk losing a limb or two or four and a head to match the set, but instead the corner of her mouth curls up in a grin. 

“You missed me,” she says. 

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” 

“You  _missed_ me. You thought I didn’t like you anymore. Ahww, Levi! You’re too sweet.” 

“Eat your waffles.” 

“You should know you can’t get rid of me that easily. Remember that time you tried to mail me away when we were nine? I came back then. If the mailman can’t take me away from you, nothing can.” 

“You would’ve gotten further if I’d remembered to put stamps on the box.” 

Hange concedes with a nod and sips her drink.

“Just admit it, though.” 

“I want to leave.” 

“Say it, and we can go.” 

“ _Eat_ , and we can go.” 

She shrugs, takes another - happier - mouthful of food, and chews contentedly, and when she’s done she settles back in her chair, humming  _you mi-i-issed me_ over and overunder her breath. Absolute menace. I roll my eyes. 

“I missed you.”

“What was that?” 

“You heard me, I’m not saying it again.” 

I stand from the table, drop the money for the food beside Hange’s empty plate, and waltz for the door. She scrambles up behind me and jogs to catch up, meeting me under the scorching sun outside a shitty cafe on a shitty day at the tail-end of summer. 

“I knew it,” she says, linking her arm with mine. The heat is already burning the top of my head.

“Shut  _up_ , four-eyes.” She’s got chocolate sauce smeared on one cheek and I wipe it away, shoving her face lightly when she tries to lick at my thumb. “Tch. Filthy.” 

She laughs, noisy and boisterous, the kind of laugh I can’t fucking stand. Unless it’s her. 

It’s September 23rd, I’m sweating my fucking ass off, and she’s Hange Zoe. 

And not much else really matters. 

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry it's pretty dialogue heavy, but it worked best like this, I think. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it! Let me know what you think in the comments section, and feel free to follow me on tumblr @ someone-stole-my-shoes, and drop me a prompt if you'd like!


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